Category: Bedtime Stories

Bedtime Stories #2

The Shepherd Boy and the Wolves

In summer time the shepherds used to drive their sheep out into the mountains some distance away from their homes, where the grass was green and tender and the sheep fattened rapidly.

But there was always some danger in this, for the wolves hid in the mountains and often came down and carried off the little lambs, and even killed the old sheep themselves. So the shepherds never thought it was safe to leave the flocks alone, and some young lad was always chosen to watch them during the day, while the shepherds worked on the little fields they cultivated near at hand. It wasn’t a hard task for the boy unless the wolves came in sight, and then he was so near that by calling loudly he could bring the shepherds to his aid.

One lad they sent out to do this work was a mischievous little chap, who thought it would be great sport to bring the shepherds about him even if no wolf was in sight. Accordingly, he ran up the side of a high rock, shouting at the top of his voice “Wolf! Wolf!” and swinging his arms wildly about.

The shepherds saw and heard him and came running to the spot, where they found nothing but the lively boy, laughing merrily. They reproved him for his mischief and went back to their work.

In a few days they had forgotten all about his prank, and when they saw him again upon the rock, swinging his arms and calling “Wolf! Wolf!” they ran a second time, with their hoes and spades in their hands to beat off the attack. Once more they found that the sheep were perfectly safe, and that no wolves were in sight, and the boy laughed noisily at their surprise. This time they were very angry and scolded the boy roundly for his deception.

More days passed, and nothing happened; but then, as the boy was lying idly in the warm sun, he saw the sheep huddle together in alarm and finally scamper off over the hill with wolves in close pursuit.

Frightened almost out of his wits at the very real danger, the boy climbed again upon the rock, shrieking “Wolf! Wolf!” at the top of his voice, waving his hands, stamping, and swinging his hat as though his very life depended on it.

The shepherds looked up and saw the boy, but returned to their work. They had been twice fooled and were not going to risk the chance again. No matter how loudly the boy called or how much he wept, they continued with their work, paying no further attention to what the lad said, even when he ran to them and assured them that he was telling the truth.

When the sheep did not return that night, the shepherds went out to find them, but though they hunted long and earnestly, they could discover nothing but torn and bleeding bodies, for every sheep had been killed.

Naturally they laid all the blame on the shoulders of the boy.

Good night boys and girls!

Happy Reading!

Story taken from Journeys Through Bookland, Volume I, 5th Edition

Bedtime Stories #1

Nursery Rhymes

Rock-a-bye, baby, in the tree top:

When the winds blows, the cradle will rock;

When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall;

Down will come baby, cradle and all.

One-ery, two-ery, ickery ann,

Fillacy, fallacy, Nicholas Zann,

Queevy, Quavy, Irish navy,

Stingalum, stangalum, buck.

Juvenile Literature

The Dog and His Shadow

A big dog carrying a big piece of meat in his mouth was one day crossing a river on a narrow bridge. Chancing to look into the water, he saw his own image reflected there, but thought it was another dog with a bigger piece of meat. He opened his mouth to grab the other’s piece of meat and lost his own in the river.

Moral: People who try to get what their neighbors possess often lose their own things.

Tom Thumb

When Arthur was king of Great Britain, and his brave knights were seeking adventures in all parts of his kingdom, the greatest magician was Merlin, of whose deeds you may read a great many tales.

At one time, when this great enchanter was on a long journey, he became very tired and turned in at the cottage of a plowman, whose wife, with great kindness, gave him a couch on which to rest and treated him to a meal of rich milk and fine brown bread. The cottage was neat and well furnished, and the plowman seemed in good circumstances, but Merlin noticed that the wife wore a very sorrowful expression and seemed to find no enjoyment in anything she did. When Merlin met the plowman he saw that the farmer was as sad as his wife. Surprised at this in such people, he asked them the cause of their troubles.

The poor woman, with tears in her eyes, said, “There is but one thing we need to make us perfectly happy. You see we have no children, and the house is very lonely. Why, if I could have one boy, even if he were no bigger than his father’s thumb. I should be the happiest creature in the world.”

The idea pleased Merlin greatly, and after he left the plowman’s home he called the queen of the fairies to his assistance.

“I know,” he said, “a plowman’s wife who says she would be the happiest woman in the world if she had a son only the size of its father’s thumb. Cannot you help her?”

The fairy queen laughed at the idea of so small a man, and said, “Well, send word to the plowman’s wife that her wish shall be granted.”

Not long afterward the plowman’s wife did indeed have a little son, who was strong and healthy in every respect but not larger than her husband’s thumb; and strange to say, no matter how much he ate or how well he took care of himself, he never grew any larger.

The queen of the fairies came to see the little fellow very soon after he was born and gave him the name of Tom Thumb. At the same time she called several of her servants from fairyland, and together the made for Tom a wonderful suit of clothes. His hat was made of an oak leaf; his shirt from a spider’s web; his doublet of thistledown; his stockings of apple rind, and his shoes from the skin of a mouse nicely tanned with the hair inside.

Although Tom was not bigger than a man’s thumb, yet he was a bright-eyed, sharp-witted little fellow who became very cunning and sly as he grew older; and as he was a great favorite with his mother she never corrected him very severely, and some of his pranks were quite troublesome. He liked to play the games that other boys played, and even joined with them, but he was so little and mischievous that none of the boys liked him very well. Sometimes he would find his way into their lunch pails and steal their food, or even get into their pockets and take out their marbles and playthings. Some of his pranks, however, turned out as badly for himself as for the people he played them on, and a number of times he got into very serious danger.

One day while his mother was making pudding. Tom stood on the edge of the bowl to watch her. As he turned away to get some more flour to stir into the bowl, Tom fell in, and his mother, never missing him, stirred him up in the dough and put him in the pot to boil. When the water began to get hot, Tom jumped about madly, scattering the dough so that his mother thought the pudding was bewitched, and gave it to a tinker who passed by just at that time.

The tinker put the pudding into his bag and went on his way. After a while Tom got his head out of the dough, cleaned the batter from his mouth, and shouted as loud as he could, “Hello, Jack the tinker.”

The man was so frightened at the voice from the pudding that he tossed it hastily over a hedge into a field, where it was broken into a dozen pieces by its fall. This released Tom, who ran home to his mother. She was glad to see him, although it made her no little work to clean the dough and plums from his clothing.

Once Tom fell into the milk and was nearly drowned. Again, he fell over the edge of the salt box which hung on the wall, and could not get out until his mother heard his cries and lifted him down. It was not long after Tom fell into the saltcellar that his mother took him out into the field with her while she milked the cows. Fearing that he would be blown away by the wind, she tied him to a thistle with a piece of string. There Tom sat singing merrily while his mother did the milking.

When a big bumblebee came buzzing along Tom cried out, “Give me some of your honey.”

“I am sorry, but I cannot. I need it for my little ones at home,” replied the bee.

Next a beautiful butterfly came near Tom, and the little fellow called out, “Mrs. Butterfly, will you five me a ride on your back some day?”

But the butterfly went quickly away, saying over her shoulder, “I do not dare to have you on my back. You would brush the tiny scarlet and gold feathers from my wings.”

After a while a little field mouse came and blinked ut that Tom with his sharp little eyes.

Tom said, “May I come and rest in your house some day, Mr. Mouse?”

But the mouse ran away, and as he ran he said something which Tom could not understand, but which was, “If I should take you to my house I am afraid you would show the cats the way to it.”

The next animal that came along was an enormous cow, who savagely pulled up the thistle to which Tom was tied and gathered him in with it. Tom was terribly frightened by the big white teeth, the great red tongue and the yawning throat of the cow.

He shouted out at the very top of his shrill little voice, “Mother, mother.”

His mother heard and answered, “Where are you, Tom? Where are you, Tom?”

“Here, mother. I am in the red cow’s mouth,” said Tom.

Now his mother was frightened surely enough; but Tom kicked and scratched and bit the cow’s throat so savagely that she was glad to throw him out of her mouth again. His mother picked him up in a hurry, put him in her apron and ran back to the house, where she was a long time cleaning him up and changing his clothes.

Another day, when Tom was helping drive the cattle home, a raven caught him up with some kernels of corn and flew with him to the top of a giant’s great castle, where he left him. Very soon the giant, walking about on the terrace of his castle, saw Tom, and would quickly have eaten him; but Tom scratched and bit the giant’s tongue till the great fellow spit him out of his mouth, over the terrace and into the sea.

While Tom was struggling in the water a large fish came along and swallowed the little man in a jiffy. Tom was not big enough to satisfy the hunger of the fish, who almost immediately seized the bait of a fisherman, and was soon landed in the boat. The fish was so large and fine that it seemed git only for a king, and the fisherman took it as a present to King Arthur, who sent it to the kitchen to be cooked. You may imagine the surprise of the cook when she cut open the fish and found Tom alive and kicking within.

Of course so wonderful a prize was sent at once to the king, who with all his court was very much delighted with the little man. For a long time Tom Thumb was a favorite dwarf at the court, and amused the king and all his followers by merry pranks. The king used to take Tom hunting, and if a shower came up or the sun grew too hot he would drop Tom into his waistcoat pocket, where the tiny man slept till it was pleasant again.

Tom became such a favorite with the king that the latter dressed him up in rich clothes and sent him to pay a visit to his parents, telling him that he might have as much money as he could carry. Tom found a little purse, put into it as much as he could lift, shouldered his little bag and started on his journey. After traveling two days and nights and being almost worn out with the huge weight of silver on his back, he arrived at his father’s house. His parents were overjoyed to see him. Tom could scarcely wait to tell them about the money he had.

“O mother,” he said, “I have brought you a fortune. The king gave me all the money I could carry to bring home to you, and here it is.”

Then Tom opened the purse, and there rolled out upon the floor–a silver three-cent piece! The farmer and his wife were amazed at such a sum of money.

When Tom’s visit was over, his mother took him up, set him on the palm of her hand, and then with a strong puff of her breath blew him back to the king’s court, where everybody was glad to see him again.

King Arthur made Tom a knight, gave him elegant suits of clothes and a fine mouse to ride as a horse, and many are the stories told of Tom’s wonderful deeds.

We have no time to read more of them now, but they were so wonderful that people heard about them all over the world. All very naturally wished that Tom had lived in their own country. After a while they began to think that he did live among them; and now if you should go to Europe you would hear the German children, the French children, the Danish children and all the others telling and reading stories about Tom Thumb. But always the German children read and tell about a German Tom Thumb; the French children, about a French Tom Thumb, and so on; but we are going to believe that Tom Thumb really lived in England in the merry days of King Arthur.

Good night and may you all dream sweet dreams.

All stories taken from Journeys through Bookland, Volume I, Fifth Edition